The Bachelorette Party: What Up With That?
October 20th, 2006
CHICAGO – Chicks don't get it.
Recently I had the opportunity to engage a group of ladies at one
of my Eastern European haunts. The ladies were celebrating a bachelorette
or so-called “hen” party.
I’ve always said that if you told women that you were going
to meet with a group of other men at a Moose Lodge on the third Tuesday
of every other month to scratch yourselves and eat horse excrement
on stale rye toast, Gloria Allred and a host of envious women would
be at the door with the local representative from the ACLU to demand
their right to do likewise. Such is the case with the bachelor—now
bachelorette—party.
Women don’t really know what to do at a bachelorette party or
how to do it. But they’re determined that we’re going
to see it.
Strippers and Hookers and Bears, Oh My! I have been to a number of bachelor parties in my life, including
my own. At my bachelor party we played golf, threw dice, and made
the obligatory stop at the ‘Vegas strip club. I was so distraught
at the prospect of marrying the wench that I turned down the lap dance
Hoopie procured for me and ended up convulsing in my brother's car.
(It should come as no surprise that “we” called off the
nuptials two days before the blessed event. To this day she maintains
that she called it off. She also insists that Japan dropped not one
but two atomic bombs on Harry Truman.)
I’ve been at other bachelor parties that featured strippers
and hookers and have even heard of bachelor parties that featured
four-legged beasts. The most disturbing bachelor party that I attended
occurred more than a decade ago in a second-story locale on Archer
Avenue that featured topless waitresses that exhibited borderline
mental and physical capabilities. They all seemed to walk with a limp
which led to the inevitable spilling of drinks and repeated dousing
of the shackled groom to be.
The very concept of a bachelor party is somewhat outdated. It dates
back to an era when young men who may have been virginal, or at the
very least inexperienced, enjoyed their last hours of freedom and
savored their last great piece of you know what.
It’s kind of a frenzied, knee-jerk reaction men have when they
come to the realization that they’re destined to be eating the
same reheated tuna casserole every day for the rest of their seemingly
infinite lives. And the jerking only becomes more pronounced with
age as said casserole morphs into a coagulated mass of cellulite nearly
twice the size of the original mass you proposed to under duress.
That’s when many men wistfully opt for something totally different;
something that can be brought right to their car window like a drive-in
cheeseburger or, perhaps, to a seedy motel on Lincoln.
As Frank Sinatra, who adored Eva Gardner, allegedly said, “No
matter how beautiful a woman is or how badly you want her, just remember,
somebody’s tired of _______ her.”
Fundamental Differences Between Sexes What women don’t realize, or don’t want to admit,
is that men and women are different. A layman like me, and I use the
term loosely, would point out that one significant difference is that
men will pay hot young women for sex that they couldn’t otherwise
get. Women, on the other hand, will have sex with gross, old oozing
men for money. Ironically, that pretty much encompasses both why we’re
different and what we have in common.
That’s a significant difference when you consider that most
men who would rub themselves on a stump to purge their loins couldn’t
even imagine throwing the blocks to some old Gold Coast bag for dinner,
opera tickets or a trip to Cancun.
Neuropsychiatrist Louann Brizendine, founder of the University of
California-San Francisco Women’s and Teen Girl’s Mood
and Hormone clinic and author of “The Female Brain,” concurs
that the female brain is fundamentally different from the male brain
due to variations in brain circuitry and hormones. The scientist physician
says that women’s brains function differently from “fetus
to grandmother.”
Lincolnshire, Illinois neurologist Dr. Jeffrey I. Frank has also demonstrated
the differences in the female and male brain. Dr. Frank did so not
by writing a book. But by allegedly exposing himself and masturbating
in front of two groups of teenage girls on separate occasions at Gillson
Park in Wilmette.
Which brings me back to the bachelor/bachelorette parties.
Men congregate at bachelor parties quietly. They don’t even
dress loudly. If there is anything going on that may offend the sensibilities
of one less inclined, they tend to reserve a private room, or even
a private wing or floor.
If there are ruminant mammals involved (and there damn well should
be if there's a cover charge or a cash bar), they may carefully wrap
their hooves in slippers or socks to reduce the sound and vibrations
for those occupying lower floors or adjacent rooms.
Men may hoot, holler, tag team, photograph, download, freeze-frame
and request phone numbers or seconds. But when the ritual is over,
they slither back under their respective rocks.
Most of the enthusiasm at a bachelor party is not exhibited by the
groom or even the “best man” but, rather, by the poor
bastard married guys who haven’t seen a taught piece of tanned
hide since their high school prom. Those are the guys to look out
for.
Conversely, women love, crave and demand attention. Women at bachelorette
parties are primarily interested in seeing the reaction of men as
they demonstrate that women can do anything that men can do—even
better. Or in this case, worse.
That’s why women often hold their Chippendale preliminaries
in public places. Curiously, these public establishments often include
venues where food is served and children are present.
The groom at a bachelor party is usually indistinguishable from his
contemporaries. Except for the fact that he often looks more pale,
sweats profusely, and shuffles his feet.
Brides to be at bachelorette parties must never be mistaken for a
mere bridesmaid or, worse yet, a single bridesmaid. To that end they
insist on wearing their veils so that the whole world knows that,
despite the fact that they’re nearing the 40-year/200-pound
club, they have landed a man (CUE TRUMPETS)!
Male Members Only
In addition, whether it’s a reaction to Freud’s theory
of “penis envy” or what not, the symbol of the bachelorette
party is the male appendage.
Phallic symbols are everywhere at bachelorette parties. The bride
wears as many of them as her veil will accommodate. And the other
“Girls Gone Vile” wear them in their hair.
They wave them. They write with them. They flash them on key chains.
They light up with them. They even blow them up. God knows we hate
watching that.
On two occasions, I have had bachelorettes come up to me in a bar/restaurant
and urge me to sign a giant inflatable penis. I suspect that the real
purpose for this intrusion was to somehow embarrass me or make me
feel inadequate because I have a protrusion instead of an incision,
i.e., gash.
Whatever their motives, I kindly obliged. (On each occasion I signed
the big-E-little-r-dotted i-“Ernie Banks” signature I
received at the Lake Geneva Y.M.C.A. as a little leaguer. “Mr.
Cub” meets “Mr. Chub,” I guess you could say.)
Men, on the other hand, rarely wear vaginas in their hair at bachelor
parties. At least not artificial ones. And nine out of ten dentists
and gynecologists surveyed highly recommend against this practice.
Women don’t even interact normally in their bachelorette mode.
They tend to stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder, looking across
the bar or whatever as if to gauge the reaction of the men they’re
trying desperately to one-up.
Apparently, in the interests of equality, they are bound to demonstrate
that they can denigrate and degrade themselves just as well as their
male counterparts. I guess they showed us.
What you brides in waiting may not realize is that, while you’re
beaming in your phallic-studded veil, most men are staring back at
you wondering what kind of guy would go out with--much less marry--a
woman like you.
Usually we’re surveying the line-up to see if there are any
hotties tagging along and wondering if there’s any chance that
they’re as infatuated with the male member as they purport to
be.
Another physiological/chemical difference between men and women at
bachelor(ette) parties is that men generally don’t get stinking
drunk before they even get to the party. It’s like throwing
up in the locker room. Unless you’re Glen Hall, it doesn’t
bode well for a long and successful evening.
‘Til Death Do Us Part
I guess the only reason for these fundamental prenuptial differences
is that despite the fact that this is the 21st century, women and
men still look at the institution of marriage differently.
Women who are not particularly enamored, much less in love, with a
man still have a perverse desire to get engaged and even married for
the sole purpose of validating to their peer group—other women—that
they’re viable as mates. It’s still a fantasy that they
feel entitled to. No matter what they feel in their hearts.
Regardless of how much a man loves a woman, and I have no doubt that
men need women more than women need men, a part of a man always feels
as though he’s going to the guillotine. And I think we know
which part.
Unless you’re Oprah, marriage is generally a win-win situation
for a woman. Providing children aren’t involved, they usually
have nothing to lose and much if not everything to gain.
If it doesn’t work out, they can walk. And even if children
are involved, they normally don’t have to worry about the kid
being ripped from their manicured paws unless they get caught ingesting
crack while the baby is suckling their breast.
Marriage for women is more like a game show. Even if it doesn’t
work out they way they dreamed, they still leave with some lovely
parting gifts.
So while we continue to pay homage to the great tradition of the bachelor
party, despite the fact that it may have evolved into a poker game
or ballgame and the groom-to-be may have gotten more than the proverbial
toilet seat for the better part of two decades, you go girl!
Wear it proudly. Wear it loudly. Just don’t get any in your
hair.
Best wishes,
Ernie Banks
Gino Giovannetti is a member of the “Jonathon Brandmeier
Morning Show” on “The LOOP,” WLUP 97.9-FM. He is
a graduate of the University of Wisconsin School of Journalism and
also attended the Ernie Pyle School of Journalism at Indiana University.
The views and opinions of Gino do not represent those of WLUP Radio,
Emmis Communications, Inc., or anyone with a brain the size of a walnut.
Gino@WLUP.com
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